


Replacement

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Best Friends, Casual Sex, M/M, Substitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 04:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And the next time you’re feeling bad, take it out on me…” Michael doesn’t have Fiona, so he turns to Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afullmargin (anemptymargin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/gifts).



> Written for afullmargin, who won my services in the fandom_helps acution

“Okay, Mike,” Sam complained, as he lowered his binoculars and shot his friend a quick look of concern, “we’ve been watching Anson pack for six hours now. How much longer do you wanna let Jesse dangle on this one?” 

“As long as we need to,” Michael said, his gaze implacable, focused far beyond Sam and the Charger and at their target several feet away.

Sam turned a jaundiced eye toward Michael. His friend hadn’t eaten or slept much since Fiona had turned herself in to spare him the pain of Anson’s trap. Now Mike and Sam were on their own with Jesse, trying to track down Anson and his associates and make them pay in an effort to spring Michael’s girlfriend from the clink. 

But at least Fi was getting three squares and some exercise out in the yard every day; Mike was denying himself essential parts of his life because of the mourning process. Well, Sam was determined to make sure he at least got what he needed, if he could provide it. 

He left Anson to linger for another fifteen minutes before calling for a pizza. When it arrived, Michael picked at it, until Sam was forced to pick up a piece and make Michael open his mouth.

“If you try to force me to chew,” Michael grumbled, “I’ll bite you.”

“I’ve been bitten by scarier men in my time.”

“Oh, I know, Sam. I can tell just by looking at you.”

Oh, could he? “Not that I’d care. I mean, chicks dig scars. This one lands me mucho dinero.” He indicated the l-shaped notch on the left side of his jaw. “Pretty girls from all over just wanna kiss it good morning.”

“And pretty boys.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Michael’s response. “I told you that story one time!”

“And I remembered it,” he chirped out, sounding like a halfway alive human being again. Sam buried a grin in his grease-coated sandwich and reached for his soda. “Hey, you’re not supposed to have that. Isn’t Elsa counting all your calories?” 

“Eh. You know how it is, Mike. Sometimes, it’s worth breaking the rules.” He grinned and took a big bite of the dripping steak concoction. 

*** 

Michael was working the heavy weights again- incessantly, wildly punching at what should be the midsection of a federal prison guard. Sam watched him as he shoveled in fried chicken and re-read a pile of documents he’d found that had given them all fresh hope in Fiona’s case. 

“Brother, sit down and take a load off - you’ve gotta give your knuckles a rest.”

“I’m fine, Sam – just keep trying to find what we need.” He winced – apparently there was only so much taping could cure. 

“Park your ass and take a look at these,” Sam demanded. He passed over a stack of docs while Michael poured himself a cup of icewater. “So whattya think? Is that worth a hundred cases of beer or what?”

Michael squinted at the documents sitting before him. “Blueprints?”

“I got these specs off of one of my buddies’ computers,” Sam grinned. “These babies should lead us right to Fi’s cell. All we have to do is blow our way in and get out without getting our asses blown to kingdom come.” 

Michael grinned. “Sam, you’re one hell of a lifesaver.”

“You’re all heart, Mike.” Sam squinted at his glass. “And other things.” His voice turned soothing. “We’re gonna get her back.” He reached for Michael’s sore hand and, quite tentatively, gave it a stroke. “As long as you can keep it together. So, next time you’re in pain?” Sam stared right into Michael’s eyes. “You come take it out on me, brother. ‘Cause there’s nothing that hurts me more than watching you suffer.” 

Sam didn’t have the courage to look back at Michael, to gauge his reaction to such frankness. But the offer was out there and – as always – he’d do whatever Michael needed to blow off a little steam.

*** 

There are rows of pink bite marks the stripe the back of Sam’s neck. Michael lay spooned up behind him, tracing what he’d left behind with his tongue.

He hadn’t offered an explanation when he had entered Sam’s bed, and Sam had asked for none in return, turning toward him and offering him the quiet succor of his skin, his breath. 

There was mercy in the slide of an open palm down the roundness of his belly – and a total lack of restraint in everything they tried. It was a pattern as old as time, and a feeling that Sam fell before as if he had been truly destined to submit to him.

There was a moment of hesitation before his hand captured Michael, thrumming softly, in the palm of his hand. It was like holding onto his heart and squeezing the life back into it. Michael was not as tentative – his mouth was bold, nearly harsh, and it claimed Sam’s body and worked it over, making him quiver and moan aloud in utter disbelief at the pleasure rocketing through his helpless body. 

Though he had given himself away in pieces to many women over many years, nothing had or ever would compare to this moment for Sam. It obliterated his sense of what was correct for his relationship with Michael, taking him beyond his charitable attitude into something more important to him – even if they got back Fiona, even if they survived the next day and she did not, Sam would carry the sensation of this memory inside of him like a chiming bell of mourning. The liquid release of their pleasure rocked Sam into silence, beyond peace into fulfillment and quietude.

After they finished making love (it couldn’t be called fucking, this exchange of emotional fervor); Michel crawled out of bed and pulled his pants back on. 

“So much for the afterglow,” Sam cracked, though the emotion behind the words was genuine. 

“We can kiss later,” Michael said. “Do you have those tech nines in the trunk?”

“Didn’t move ‘em the last time we crossed the border. Why?”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Sam felt his skin prickle. A determined Michael Westen was a scary Michael Westen, and the world was gonna find itself on its knees in short order.

Thank God they were both on the same side, for better and for worse.


End file.
